


The Everlasting Carol in the Painting by the Fireplace

by AnonymousStory77



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Gen, Holidays, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Inspired by Narnia, Not Canon Compliant, Winter, and of depressive thinking, brief mentions of death, hatoful humans, holiday story, hopeful and melancholy, inspired by Night on the Galactic Railroad, inspired by the characters and their plots but very much my own story, not birds here sorry, not really a fanfic, the story is not violent, war as a backdrop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21850837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousStory77/pseuds/AnonymousStory77
Summary: In a small war-torn town, life goes on without the comfort of lights and always in the confines of fear and misery.When an optimistic schoolgirl meets a world-weary ghost, the budding friendship between the two kickstarts a series of events that pull together a ramshackle group of townsfolk from all walks of life.Slowly, they each begin to understand how they can spark joy and the magic of the season in their hearts- and in the hearts of others.





	The Everlasting Carol in the Painting by the Fireplace

**Author's Note:**

> An AU of Hatoful Boyfriend and incredibly divergent from the original story- it’s less of a fanfic and more me using these characters that I love as a medium to tell a melancholic, yet feel-good Christmas story.  
> I’ve come across a lot of selfishness and stubborn, purposeful cruelty lately. It was starting to take a toll on me, and I began to feel rather lost and hopeless. So, I decided to write this story to make myself feel a little better, because no matter how dark things get, I want to keep believing in kindness. If you are in need of a pick-me-up as well, then please, read this story. I hope you enjoy it, and that it restores a little bit of your faith in humanity and in the holidays.  
> So Happy Holidays to everyone. I hope you have a wonderful festive season with friends, family, and a nice cup of your favourite hot drink.  
> Above all, remember the spirit of everyone’s holidays the world over: let’s just be kind. You can always be kind. It’s not always easy, but good things never are. So just do your best to be kind and know that that’s enough.  
> Someone sees you. And someone cares.  
> And what do you know?  
> Maybe you’ve just inspired someone else to be kind too. 
> 
> Enjoy the story. :)  
> -AnonymousWriter

It was getting dark out much faster this time of year. When the later hours began to relinquish their hold on the sunlight, the afternoon and morning hours did so also, in quick pursuit of the night and her wintry silence.

Winter was not a pleasant time for most people who lived in the small town of Littledove, for the daylight was scarce and fleeting, and the ensuing darkness was all encompassing.

The guardsman at the top of the tower fiddled with his glasses, cleaning the lenses with a distracted hand and a corner of his beaten-up, hand-me-down shirt.

For a long while, he had lain casually on his back, head and shoulders resting against the wall of the bell tower, watching the remnants of a tattered string a long way up sway lazily back and forth in the wind.

As he drifted off and shivered in the sudden cold that typically accompanied strong winds, he unexpectedly began to daydream, unusual for a man like himself, who was typically quite grounded.

He dreamt that the swaying string was in actuality a set of string lights, beautiful and delicate, a frail beacon that would nevertheless cut through the night’s domain. He entertained, briefly, the notion of a world where lights could be turned freely on, cutting a large swath through the dark winter... but then he shook his head, snapping himself back to reality with a sigh.

He stood up and stretched luxuriously, checking his watch briefly while stifling a yawn. His shift was over.

The young guardsman left the bell tower with its creaky door and made his way down the spiral steps that took him safely to ground. Upon exiting the tower, he strolled up casually to his boss’ station, rolling his shoulders back and placing a friendly smile on his face.

“Shift’s over.”

“Alright then, Sakazaki. You are dismissed.”

The guardsman nodded, then turned on to the nearest dirt path and began his walk home.

Typically a strong-willed professional, the guardsman found himself tapping short little tunes on his leg as his pace got faster and faster. He just couldn’t put the image out of his mind- and he felt guilty for it. He knew the risks.

Yet some impractical side of him still dreamed of a town lit up with stars and lights; a remnant of a memory he was certain most people in the town had forgotten.

But soon after realizing it was only a distant memory, Yuuya Sakazaki was immediately able to banish the image from his mind... and keep on walking.

—

She woke up to the distant chiming of bells from the oaken grandfather clock that swayed rhythmically in the empty room. It was set to chime its dirge-like bells once per hour, every hour.

She lay with her head resting on the table, blearily blinking her eyes, taking in the wooden desk, her open textbook, and the rows of dimly lit bookshelves.

It was only when the quiet bell tolled it’s twelfth note and fell silent that she jolted upright.

“How did I stay here until midnight?!”

She shot to her feet, flinging her books in her bag and looking around for the exit.

“Have I been locked in?! Where’s the exit?! And where’s the Wild Girl’s Guide to Surviving in an Abandoned Frigid Library anyways?!”

“Ssh!”

She peeked her head slowly around the bookshelves and found the old receptionist shaking her wizened head disdainfully at her. The old lady adjusted her spectacles then pointed wordlessly at the library’s hours.

“Oh, you’re just closing now,” the girl whispered to her in an attempt to be quiet, which, as anyone knows who has ever tried to whisper to someone across a room, is not at all that quiet.

The receptionist sighed wearily and beckoned her towards the door, jangling the keys impatiently.

“Okay, I’m coming! Wait...”

She rummaged through her bag while the receptionist tapped her foot impatiently.

“I... forgot one of my textbooks. Can I go back and get it?”

The receptionist sighed deeply.

“Here,” she said, passing the girl the keys. “Lock up and bring them back tomorrow.”

“Will do, Ms Receptionist, ma’am!”

With a final shake of her head, the receptionist left through a side door and went home.

The schoolgirl tore across the ground floor as quickly as she could while casting furtive glances into the shadows around her, like someone who knows very well they should not be running in a library.

In fact, as she bent down to retrieve her final book from where it landed after taking a tumble off the desk, she noticed a little sign above her head that said just that.

“I’m the last one in here,” said the schoolgirl mutinously. “Your words hold no power over me!”

From somewhere across the room came a deep, disdainful sigh.

“Who’s there?” the girl yelped.

From the same location as before, someone gasped audibly, and then said nothing more.

The library was silent as the grave (as all libraries really should be) as the girl looked about her in all directions. She held a book out in front of her defensively.

“I have to lock up, so if you’re hiding somewhere, you need to leave,” she shouted. Her voice echoed off the bookshelves judgementally.

“Alternatively, if you’re an axe murderer, I’ll have you know that I know professional wrestling moves, so I wouldn’t try anything!”

No reply.

The library stood still as if holding its breath. The wind picked up outside, pressing against the wooden rickets and causing tremulous creaks and groans to echo in the room.

Between the bookshelves, something rustled.

Still raising her book defensively, the girl edged slowly towards the source of the noise, keeping quiet. She got as close to the corner as she dared, then jumped out from her hiding place.

“Gotcha!”

But when she looked, all she saw was an empty aisle.

“Whew, nobody there,” she said in relief. “All this fuss must’ve just been my imagination.”

Her eyes looked around the dark bookshelves one last time. A book lay on the ground, like it had been dropped by someone in a hurry.

The girl bent over and picked it up.

“Whoops! Better put you back where you belong. Let’s see... author E... E... E...”

And as she turned around to scan the shelves for the book’s proper place, she spotted the figure who had come up directly behind her without making a noise.

“AHHH!” she shrieked, flinging the books down the aisle and raising her fists.

The figure gasped, then shot behind the bookshelf’s corner, literally flickering in and out of view.

A few moments passed, the girl breathing heavily as she waited for the apparition to return. When he did not reappear, the girl cautiously crept towards the bookshelf.

The figure peeked out briefly and hid again.

“I’m sorry,” said the schoolgirl. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

No reply, but she could see the edges of his fingertips, pale and cold-looking, on the edge of the wooden shelf’s frame.

“My name’s Hiyoko. Tosaka, Hiyoko,” continued the girl. Her instincts had assured her that the strange quiet figure was no threat. “I’m a sophomore at this school. Who are you?”

No answer, but he did peek ever so slightly around the corner to look at her. Hiyoko caught a glimpse of green hair and pale, corduroy sweater.

“It’s okay,” she tried again. “You can come out. I won’t hurt you. There’s no need to be afraid.”

“I... I wasn’t afraid.”

The figure stepped into view, still resting one hand on the side of the shelf, as though ready to pull himself away quickly should the need arise and the newcomer turn out not to be so friendly.

“I just... I was trying not to scare you,” he said quietly.

Hiyoko giggled.

The boy (for indeed, it was a boy around her own age) stared at her with a blank expression, as if unsure where to take the conversation from there.

“Oh!” Hiyoko said suddenly, startling the boy. “You dropped your book! And then I, uh... kind of threw it.”

She leaned down to pick it up, dusting off the cover with a few quick motions of her hand. She held it out to him.

“Here you go!”

He took it from her hesitantly, his fingers brushing slightly against hers and flinching back from the point of contact.

He was cold.

Hiyoko felt a shiver run through her entire body when his pale fingers touched hers. He was pale everything actually, now that she could see him better. Pale hair, pale sweater, pale face. He was almost translucent in certain dark patches, but where the light from outside hit him, she could see his small figure flickering softly dimmer and brighter, back and forth, like a weak candle flame left out in a winter’s wind.

The only part of him that was not pale and dim were his eyes, orange and deep like fire and sparks, albeit dulled by hooded lids. The comparison to fire went nicely with her little candle flame analogy, and she mentally patted herself on the back for paying attention in literature class for once.

She didn’t need to say it aloud to know that he was a ghost, and he did not seem to be making much of an effort to hide it. He just stared at her, as though she were the strange one in the room.

“You never told me your name,” Hiyoko said suddenly.

“What?” the ghost boy asked quietly, looking startled.

“Your name,” Hiyoko continued. “You never introduced yourself.”

The boy shuffled quietly in place and said nothing.

“You’re...?”

The boy stared at her, blank-faced, seeming to be thinking about something deeply.

“...Nageki,” he finally said. “Fujishiro, Nageki.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Nageki,” Hiyoko said cheerfully, outstretching her hand to shake his.

“Thanks,” he replied stiffly, staring down at her hand with a blank expression. She awkwardly withdrew it.

“So...” said Hiyoko slowly, unsure of how to carry the conversation.

Nageki stood there, watching her uneasily, looking like he would rather be doing anything else but be talking to her- but he didn’t seem to want to leave either. His eyes traced her expressions with wariness and what might’ve been the slightest bit of curiosity.

“So,” Hiyoko said again, not knowing what to say but desperately wanting to say something.

“So,” Nageki quietly replied.

And at that inopportune moment, Hiyoko’s phone began to ring in her pocket, vibrating and flashing and scaring the both of them.

Hiyoko checked the caller ID.

“Oh! Sorry, I have to take this. Just a second!”

She turned away from him and answered.

“Hi Ryouta!”

“Hiyoko!” came the sound of Ryouta’s voice, crackling through the speakers. “It’s past midnight! Where are you?”

“I might’ve fallen asleep in the library,” Hiyoko admitted. “Whoopsie!”

“Hiyoko,” Ryouta mumbled. She could almost picture him shaking his head. “Mom and I were worried sick. Can you please come home?”

“I was just on my way,” Hiyoko said. “Sorry to worry you, Ryouta.”

“It’s okay, Hiyoko, but you should be more careful. You know it isn’t safe at night.”

“I’ll be fine. Quit worrying.”

“I’ll try... see you soon.”

“See you!” Hiyoko answered cheerfully before hanging up.

She whirled back around to face Nageki.

“Now, where were we- huh?”

When she looked around, the ghost boy was gone.

Hiyoko blinked, once, twice. He was nowhere to be seen.

With a sigh, she grabbed her books and her bag and started towards the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” she said hopefully to the empty air.

When she received no reply, she turned on her heels and left the library, stepping out into the winter’s cold and locking the door behind her.

And at the same time, in a place far from there, a pair of orange candle flame eyes watched the banks of a river that wound a long distance away, past a little cabin that stood at the border, where the town ended and the conifer trees began.

Nageki heaved a deep sigh, listening to the river ice creak and groan under the stress of its constraints, pale, eerie and unyielding in the darkness.

And though it was largely obscured by its prison, he found his attention drawn, as it always was, to the black water below. Frigid and repressed, it flowed with an eerie calmness that beckoned him to peer more closely into its depths, where no riverbed or lonely fish could be seen through its darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! If you’re enjoying this story, would you mind leaving a comment?  
> Been having some trouble with self motivation lately... if you want to see more, please tell me! If I can’t motivate myself, then I’ll finish it for you. Eventually. Haha.


End file.
